


On Matters of the Heart (Valor, Love, and Impulse)

by kylermalloy



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Blood Drinking, Elricest, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Incest, Vampire!Al, obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29566734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylermalloy/pseuds/kylermalloy
Summary: One of the perks of leaving Briggs—becoming fugitives, Al tries not to think—is theprivacy.No longer do they have soldiers trooping behind them everywhere they go, watching,watching.It’s nice to travel with a small group, with companions who let them have their own space.(After all, they have some private business to take care of.)
Relationships: Alphonse Elric/Edward Elric
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21
Collections: Vampire!Al AU





	On Matters of the Heart (Valor, Love, and Impulse)

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the vampire!Al AU, which has completely taken over my consciousness. The explanation for all this insanity can be found [here](https://kylermalloy.tumblr.com/post/642494081155612672/the-amount-of-narrative-shuffling-it-would-take), the tumblr post that started it all.
> 
> Based loosely in the Brotherhood continuity, this snippet takes place during the time skip when Ed travels with Greed and the chimeras. In this AU, though, Al meets up with them and they spend all that time together.

One of the perks of leaving Briggs—becoming fugitives, Al tries not to think—is the  _ privacy _ . No longer do they have soldiers trooping behind them everywhere they go, watching,  _ watching _ .

It’s nice to travel with a small group, with companions who let them have their own space.

The little ramshackle house they’ve chosen for the night has beds, a rare luxury. Only four, though—Ed and Al opt to share one, so each of the others can have his own.

But they get their own room. That much is certain.

Al is slipping. He hasn’t been able to keep any food down all day. Black spots stain his vision almost constantly; he sways and stumbles over nothing. His chest throbs, heart struggling to pump what little blood he has left.

Brother’s heartbeat sings to him. Ed has slung one of Al’s arms over his shoulders, supporting his unsteady gait. This close, each beat seems to reverberate through Al’s body. Inviting him. Reeling him in.

Al pushes back against his hunger.  _ No, not yet. _

It’s barely been two weeks since Ed’s accident—since the mineshaft collapsed and he lost so much blood, and Al left his friends behind to find his brother.

They’re together again, and Ed is much better now. But Al can’t bring himself to feed on him. He’s been using prepared blood bags ever since they’ve come north. Chilled, preserved blood sustains him, but not for as long. It twists and writhes uncomfortably in his stomach before spreading through his veins.

A white-hot spike rips through his body as Ed lets him fold into a sitting position on their little bed. His body feels ready to break apart, like metal that has rusted through. He’s so out of it he doesn’t stop the groan of pain passing his lips.

At once, Ed’s arms are around him, one encircling his shoulders and the other cupping his cheek. He’s saying something, but it echoes horribly in Al’s skull, meshing the words into gibberish.

He’s only aware of the hand guiding his face down to meet warm skin. He knows this place well—the junction of Ed’s neck and shoulder, where the pulse of blood nips playfully at his lips. Tantalizing, teasing…

“No,” he gasps—but the urgency in the word is clouded by his hazy consciousness, and he’s sure it doesn’t sound very impressive. (Not to mention the desperate hunger burning through his teeth.) “I can’t—not yet. You’re not healed.”

The hand on his face—warm, clearly flesh—makes soothing strokes across his cheek. Even without Ed’s accompanying words, which have melted into alphabet soup, the meaning of the gesture couldn't be more obvious.  _ It's okay. Go ahead. _

Maybe if he were stronger, if he weren't so starved and sleepy and uninhibited, he would have been able to resist. But as he is, with his brother’s blessing, he lets his cursed instincts take over.

The first bite is always the hardest—he has to practically chew through layers of skin with enough force to open a vein, often without the instant reward of blood. All while knowing Ed is writhing in pain under his teeth, feeling every pinch, every twitch of his jaw.

(If he’s hungry enough, though, it won’t matter.)

Al lets himself fade, lets his mouth do the work until he can feel it. Feel the warmth beginning to flow onto his tongue.

He moans in relief. Tightens his arms around brother’s neck.

One more gnawing bite opens the skin well, and the blood is flowing. Al locks his lips in place, making sure he doesn’t miss a drop.

It shouldn’t taste this good, he knows. He shouldn’t have this much pleasure from being alive this way. Already his senses are sharper, no longer blurry. The veil between him and life has been lifted, passed through with Ed’s blood as payment.

He’s vibrantly aware of Ed, breathing deep and harsh through the torture Al is inflicting on him. He flinches and twitches under Al’s lips, his body fighting against this unnatural attack, this violent intrusion.

And yet his hands are gentle. Mismatched warm and cold, flesh and metal, cradle the back of Al’s neck, knead in between his shoulder blades. Encouraging. Comforting.

He doesn’t deserve it.

(But he’s grateful for it all the same.)

He lets go as soon as Ed’s arms dip downward, the fervor of his embrace beginning to slack. He’s taken all Ed can give, for now.

His lips break from brother’s skin with a soft  _ pop, _ reminiscent of a kiss.

Al breathes against the wound he's made, taking just a moment to revel in how alive he feels. His heart has sped up, circulating the new blood through his body with an unnatural eagerness. Already he can feel the cold air around him more acutely, indicating his rising body temperature. Glancing down at his hand on Ed’s shoulder, he can see his color has come back, his complexion much closer to Ed’s now.

(Of course, Ed’s just  _ lost _ some color, too. He's given some of his life to Al, draining himself in the process. Equivalent exchange.)

Ed sighs and lets his eyes close. Al gently guides him down to a reclining position on the bed. Smooths his hair back from those unnaturally pale cheeks.

Even bled out and exhausted like this, he’s beautiful.

Bandages, food, medicine for Ed all pass in a flurry, and soon enough they lay side by side on their narrow bed.

Ed draws long breaths, deep in and deep out. After some rich chocolate and the juice he keeps hidden from Ling, there’s a little color back in his face and lips.

Al sighs and lets himself melt into the mattress. Despite the blood bringing him back to life, he’s still tired. His body needs sleep, too.

Beside him, the mattress shifts as Ed lifts himself on one elbow. “There’s blood on your mouth,” he murmurs.

“Mm-mmm.” Al doesn’t bother opening his eyes. He’s too tired. Whatever mess he’s made can wait until morning.

Then he feels a soft warmth brush over his lips. Over the bottom one, then the top.

The sensation leaves behind a curious chill.

“Mm.” Ed’s voice is low. “Al.”

Hands lace in Al’s hair, turning his head to face brother. Then a repeat of the sensation— _ more, _ this time.

He opens his eyes to find Ed’s face a hair’s breadth from his own. Eyes intense despite the fatigue.

“Brother, what are you—”

“Shh,” Ed breathes. “Let me.”

And he touches his tongue once more to Al’s lips. Lapping softly at the blood still sticky on his mouth.

“Oh,” Al gasps. Hushed. Shy.

They haven’t been this close since Al found Ed in that North City clinic, and they—

Well, they haven’t even  _ talked _ about what happened, let alone repeated it.

Until now.

Ed’s lips nip gently at his, trailing tiny, breathy kisses all over his mouth. Taking back his spilled blood.

His left hand cups Al’s cheek, fingers dancing softly into his ever-growing hair.

Al melts into his touch. “Brother.” It’s halfway between a sigh and a whimper.

He and Ed are so close, so often. But their closeness is always punctuated by violence, not…this.

G*d, this feels nice.

Ed catches Al’s top lip between his teeth. He nibbles at the skin—a gentle loving echo of what Al has done to him countless times.

Al laughs breathlessly, lost in the feeling.

It isn’t the first time Ed has playfully bitten him.  _ Just out of curiosity, _ he would say.  _ You know, as a scientist. I wanna know what it feels like. _

Right now, Al feels  _ loved. _

Ed releases him, though he doesn’t move away. They lay facing each other, close enough that their noses and foreheads touch.

“You’re so warm,” Ed murmurs, husky with satisfaction. His thumb strokes Al’s cheek, painting a line of fire with every pass. “That means I did good.”

Al covers Ed’s hand with his own, lacing their fingers together.

His other hand drifts down, moving to tuck in Ed’s shirt where it’s ridden up, exposing his stomach.

They both gasp as Al’s hand brushes the tender scar tissue forming on Ed’s abdomen.

Where just two weeks ago, a metal beam ran straight through Ed. Impaling him like a piece of meat on a spit.

“Sorry,” Al breathes.

He can recall with crystal clarity the panic he felt, miles and miles away, as his own body nearly gave out on him.  _ Something’s wrong with brother, _ he gasped.

All because Ed decided to take on Kimblee and two chimeras by himself.

Thinking about it still makes Al sick.

“Don’t worry.” Ed kisses him again, his tongue brushing the corner of Al’s mouth.

But Al can't  _ not _ worry. He locks his tired eyes with Ed’s. “Brother, we have to talk.”

Ed stiffens. “About…this? Are you not—”

“About  _ that, _ ” Al corrects him, glancing down pointedly at his healing stomach wound. “And you taking stupid risks.”

“I  _ don’t— _ ”

“Yes, you do.” Al keeps his tone prim and composed, despite his exhaustion. He may be willing to compromise on a lot of things, but this latest stunt of Ed’s takes things too far. “Tomorrow. After we sleep.”

“C’mon.” Ed’s voice drifts sideways into a whine. “We already did this.”

“We never settled it—you didn’t promise to be less reckless.”

“And I won’t,” Ed grumbles, nearly unintelligible.

Al leans in and drops one more peck on his lips, leaving the last traces of blood on Ed. “Yes, you will,” he says confidently, ignoring when Ed pouts like a little kid.

He smiles to himself as they settle in to sleep, entangled and basking in each other’s warmth. Now that he’s fed and got enough energy to argue, he’ll be relentless. Brother won’t stand a chance.

**Author's Note:**

> Before I say anything else, THERE IS ART! Go marvel at vampire!Al and give this wonderful artist some love—[here](https://dee-toraburu.tumblr.com/post/643089319888912384/a-small-fanart-made-for-the-vampireal-au-created) on tumblr.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think - comments feed my SOUL. I'm on [tumblr](https://kylermalloy.tumblr.com) too, so hop over and say hi!
> 
> Also, be sure to check out the other vampire!Al fics in the collection [here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Vampire_Al_AU)!


End file.
